Epilogue
One year later …
Autumn had returned to Autumn Ridge, all burnished gold and woodsmoke and the rustle of leaves along the porch.
The swing Ethan had once promised now hung beneath the eaves, built from scratch and stained to match the deck.
It swayed lazily in the breeze with the two of them nestled on its cushion, the sliding glass door open behind them, the whole house smelling faintly of coffee, sawdust, and home.
Catsby snored from her perch on the second cat tower just inside.
Max blinked sleepily from Cali’s lap. And somewhere in the kitchen, Ethan’s phone kept pinging with new repair requests for Crosstown Repairs.
Carl and Ethan’s old coworkers had been keeping in touch, even though their current worksite was in California, with hopes for a guys’ weekend sometime next year.
This would be the second Autumn for Ethan, fourth for Cali. Minka was already making plans with them to pick apples at Candlewick, and they’d spotted the crew members setting up the Ferris wheel for the fall festival last time Ethan dropped Cali off at the library for work.
The year had been full of memories for the four of them.
The holidays with her family. Now her brother and Ethan were like best friends—constantly texting each other, trading advice, debating the latest scores.
She’d nursed Ethan through a terrible flu in the spring, and he’d done the same for her.
They went fishing with Leo in the summer—though Cali preferred reading on the dock.
No more furry escape artistry, but The Nine had helped them celebrate another year around the sun for both Catsby and Max.
It was almost too good to be true. A year full of Sundays just like the first one they’d shared.
Her heart swelled just thinking about it.
The porch swing rocked in an easy rhythm as they read the latest book club pick together, the wood creaking against the hush of evening. Ethan set down his book and slipped his arm around her shoulders, coffee mug balanced in his other hand. Across the lake, the sun melted into pink and gold.
“The swing is perfect,” she said. “But you do realize this is technically the fourth thing you’ve built me this year.”
He smiled. “Promised I’d get around to it. Hope the wait was worth it.” He kissed her cheek. “Love you.”
Those words still wrapped her in warmth, better than any blanket, no matter how many times he’d said them. “Love you, too. And, yes, worth every second. You finished it just in time for cozy blankets and watching the leaves change. My favorite season.”
“I remember.” He shuddered a little and pulled his hand through his hair. Speaking of … do you feel that chill?”
Cali nodded, and he ducked inside to grab the largest, plushest throw from their blanket basket.
When he returned, he lifted Max from her lap, cradling him as he draped half the blanket over her.
Then he settled Max back down and slipped beneath the softness beside them both.
She felt his skin and warmth and spicy scent pressing against her own.
When she turned toward him, he reached into his pocket and held out a small, sanded-wood box between them. No velvet, no shine.
“You made this?” she whispered, brushing her thumb over the smooth wood. “Another keepsake box? It’s beautiful.”
“Same wood as your deck,” he said softly. “Seemed fitting. But it’s not exactly a keepsake box. Go ahead—open it.”
Inside was a curved wood-inlay ring with a tension-set gem that caught the last of the sunset.
The corners of his mouth turned up. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Cali. You don’t just feel like home. You are home. Will you marry me?”
Her throat tightened, eyes blurring. “You’re impossible. You know that?”
He lifted a brow. “Is that a yes?”
“An enthusiastic yes,” she said, grinning as he slipped the ring onto her finger.
Max batted at her hand, the sparkle of the ring catching his attention. Cali laughed. “Hey, bubs! That’s mine.” She stroked his head until he purred.
The porch swing rocked, the cats settled, and for the first time, home wasn’t a place—it was a person. Cali squeezed Ethan’s hand and sighed. “Guess love at first scratch really does exist.”